Sins of the Father
by Floralia
Summary: Preparing for a hunt brings back haunting memories for Sam, and forces Dean to decide if he can trust the man Sam has become.


**Title: **Sins of the Father

**Summary: **Preparing for a hunt brings back haunting memories for Sam, and forces Dean to decide if he can trust the man Sam has become.

**Warnings: **There are some references to mature themes, but nothing explicit. Just proceed with caution. There's probably a bit of cussing in there too.

**a/n: **Set mid season three some time. I really need to thank Sendintheclowns and Gidgetgal9 for the beta and the handholding on this, and for putting up with my unusual level of neurosis this month.

-0-

"Well I'll be…"

"What?" Sam had been zoning out in the passenger seat for the past 100 miles but he glanced over now, concern on his face. Dean was too surprised, too jazzed by the sight of the name on his caller ID, to elaborate any further.

"Travers man, long time no see," he greeted the other hunter warmly. He glanced away from the road to catch his brother's eye, let Sam share in the enthusiasm of hearing from one of their father's old hunting buddies. Sam didn't return his gaze, just nodded jerkily and swallowed, turning his focus back out the window at the endless miles of nothing.

Shrugging off irritation at Sam's lack of enthusiasm, Dean turned his attention back to the phone in his hand, his eyes back on the road.

"Too long," the other man confirmed. "Must be going on 4 years; while that brother of yours was still at college."

"Yeah well, things have changed. Sammy says 'Hi'," Dean grinned mischievously in his brother's direction, earning a clenched jaw and silence in return.

"He there with ya?"

"Sure is."

"Oh. Well… yeah, I suppose that's a good thing. I could use all the help I can get on this one."

If Sam hadn't been so unsubtly eavesdropping in the next seat then Dean would have called Travers on the hesitation in his tone. It made sense the other man would have his doubts – Sam had been a teenager the last time the two had met, and reluctant to get on board with the hunting programme. Dean grinned even wider, looking forward to their friend's shock when he saw the man, and the hunter, that gangly teen had turned into.

"You working a job?"" he asked.

"Yeah. Tailypo. Elusive son of a bitch too, stalking the hiking trails over at Crow Peak. Heard a rumour you might be in the area. Though maybe you'd like to play backup on this one. I could use a sounding board if you're game. There's a whole lotta land out there and just one critter. We need a solid plan of attack."

"A Tailypo, huh," Dean mused thoughtfully. It had been a while since they'd seen one, and stalking prey through the Black Hills National Forest could be a nice change of pace. And there was nothing like a long planning session and a rough and dirty hunt to get the adrenaline and the post job beers flowing.

"Sure man, why not. We're on our way to Bobby's now, should be there in a couple of hours. Why don't you meet us there tonight? We can put our heads together; take a look at what you've got."

"Singer's place?"

"Yeah. Hey, it'll be like old times."

"Ok. I can be there by sundown."

"Great. See you in a few."

He ended the call with a satisfied sigh and tossed the phone onto the seat next to him. He was primed and ready to be bombarded with questions – what Travers had said, how he was doing, details about the hunt, hell, anything at all. Dean hadn't seen the other hunter for a good few years, but for Sam it had been, like, forever. Sam's age had meant he wasn't always included when the other man was around but still, he and dad had been close once; that should have made the guy worthy of some interest.

Only apparently Sam didn't seem to agree. When he finally decided to acknowledge the conversation he'd overheard, it was with a disapproving frown.

"You don't think maybe you should have checked with Bobby first, before inviting people over to his place?"

Dean just snorted. "You're kidding, right?"

Sam said nothing.

"It's _Travers_," Dean clarified, as though Sam might not remember from 30 seconds ago. "The guy's not exactly a stranger. We used to see him there all the time. Besides, it's not exactly a social call. Guy's on a job and is looking for a little help. Hunting evil comes first, Bobby knows that." A Tailypo meant a body count. Dean didn't see how Sam could even think Bobby might object.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam relented, but he didn't look convinced.

"What…. You jealous?" Dean deduced. He didn't know whether to shake the kid or hug him. Sure, Travers and Dean had some catching up to do, and some good times behind them that Sam hadn't been around for. But from what Dean remembered, the older hunter had always been willing to listen to Sam's input, take the youngest Winchester under his wing, despite Sam's age and inexperience. Dean had bought himself a one-way ticket to Hell; maybe he could understand that Sam might not want to compete for his attention during what little time they had left. But that didn't mean he had to brood and ruin the fun for the rest of them. Dean was more than willing to grab any distraction that came his way.

"Sam?" he prodded, slightly unnerved by the lack of put downs or denials. Dean spared his brother another glance, and if anything Sam's scowl looked even deeper. "What's your problem?"

"Just forget it," Sam shook his head. "Wake me when we get there." And with that he shifted to face the window, showing Dean his back.

Dean rolled his eyes, but Sam could no longer see the move so had effectively put an end to the conversation. It was barely two in the afternoon; Dean doubted Sam was even tired, let alone sleeping. He probably didn't even have his eyes closed, and was instead back to staring out the window at nothing.

The silence was a lot less comfortable and relaxing this side of Travers' call.

After 20 minutes it seemed to get too much, and Sam leant over and nudged Dean's cassette back in. Dean took two consecutive hours of Motorhead for the apology they were, and the atmosphere in the car lifted, even if Sam proved to be no more eager to be drawn into conversation.

But the mood was definitely lighter when they pulled into the salvage yard later that day.

Dean had just finished grabbing their gear from the trunk when Bobby made it out to meet them.

"You made good time, I didn't expect you for another couple of hours," Bobby greeted them, clapping Sam on the back and maintaining contact a little longer than was strictly necessary, shifting his hand to give Sam's arm a brief squeeze. Dean wondered if Bobby, like him, was trying to reassure himself with the warmth and movement under his hand.

"Well, you know Dean," Sam issued, giving the other man an understanding smile. "Always has driven like a maniac."

"Hey," Dean slapped his brother around the back of the head as he passed, causing Bobby to groan.

"You've not even been here five minutes and I know you're gonna give me a headache. I can just tell."

Sam pulled a sympathetic face and skirted around their friend to open up the passenger side door again. Dean could hear him rummaging in the glove box and grinned, wondering if he was intending on helpfully pulling out the Tylenol Dean knew was stashed there. He turned and took a few paces towards the house, deciding he didn't want to be in Bobby's line of fire if that was the case.

"Oh, before I forget," he turned back to face the other hunter, "I spoke to Travers earlier. He's working a job in the area. Tailypo. I think he could use a hand. He's gonna meet us here later, go over the details."

Dean could sense Sam stiffen, and when he glanced over his brother had shifted to sit back down inside the car, gaze on the dash like it was the most fascinating thing in the area.

"Travers?" Bobby mused. "_Michael _Travers?" he questioned, and Dean didn't miss the hard edge to his voice. "_He_ suggested meeting _here_?"

"_I _suggested it," Dean clarified.

Bobby threw Sam a thunderous look, but Sam had conveniently found a loose thread on a tear in his jeans and was too fascinated by that to acknowledge it.

"Is there a problem here?" Dean asked. Bobby had gone silent, but he was obviously not happy with the situation, and Sam was being darn right evasive.

"No. No problem," Sam murmured quietly, and Bobby just snorted and shook his head.

"Then I don't get you," Dean continued. "What, all of a sudden we don't play well with others? You were both happy enough to team up with Isaac and Tamara that time. Why should this be any different? At least we all know Travers."

"I said it's no problem Dean. Forget it." Sam looked slightly panicked in the face of his outburst, but that did nothing to calm him. Dean knew that Bobby would be there for Sam, but maybe his brother needed to think about preserving their contacts now. Dean wouldn't be around forever, and he'd feel better if there were more eyes watching out for the kid.

"Hunting isn't an exclusive club," he pushed, watching as Sam climbed out of the car and slammed it closed, obviously forgetting whatever he'd been scrabbling about to find. "You should accept help where you can get it. And if someone asks for my help putting some evil son of a bitch in the ground, then I'm gonna damn well give it. This isn't another Gordon. Dad trusted this guy. I trust him. That should be a good enough recommendation."

"Yeah, you'd think," Sam smiled sadly, frowning and shaking his head slightly in Bobby's direction before moving past Dean and into the house. When Dean followed his gaze and looked at the older hunter questioningly, Bobby just raised both hands in surrender.

"Don't look at me," he issued. "You take this one up with your brother."

He found Sam in Bobby's study, eyes scanning the rows of books and parchments. It was just like Sam to hide behind a musty old tomb whenever there was something that needed to be said.

"What's gotten into you today?" he asked loudly, causing Sam to flinch. "You've been pissy since Bismarck. Do we need to talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Sam issued blandly, eyes never leaving Bobby's shelf.

"Yeah, sure there isn't," Dean muttered darkly, watching as Sam lifted some papers down and began leafing through them. "You've been against this hunt since you heard about it, and you don't even know the details yet. I just, this isn't like you man."

Sam's jaw twitched, but he still didn't say anything. He did grace Dean with a brief moment of eye contact and a tentative smile. Only instead of opening up like Dean wanted, he retreated behind the pile of parchment again, and Dean snapped.

"What the Hell are you doing with that? Will you just stop for two seconds? What's so important that you can't put it down and tell me what you're problem is with this hunt?"

When Sam turned on him then his face and his voice were stony. "It's a set of maps of the area," he stated coldly, slamming them against Dean's chest with enough force that he actually staggered out of the way so Sam could move past him. "I figured they could come in handy when you're trying to get a fix on Travers' damn creature.

Dean was still scrambling to stop them from spilling out onto the floor as Sam swept out of the room.

"Sam…" he called, moving to follow. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say – what to do with the weird combination of anger and guilt.

"Don't. We're okay Dean," Sam turned and held up one hand, but it was the sadness in his brother's voice that stopped Dean in his tracks. "I just need some air."

"Yeah, okay," Dean relented. "Just don't wander too far."

"I know the drill," Sam confirmed, gracing him with his first smile in what felt like days. And with that he left Dean hovering in the doorway to Bobby's study, and headed outside.

-0-

Bobby found Sam ten minutes away from the house, perched on the bonnet of a particularly rusty looking Ford Escort, looking thoughtful.

"Your tetanus is up to date, right?" he asked in way of a greeting.

Sam smiled softly and nodded. "Hepatitis A, B, Polio, _and _rabies" he confirmed.

Bobby winced.

He leant against the side of a neighbouring Buick and observed the other man in silence. Sam's head was down so Bobby couldn't see his face, but he didn't have to to know the smile was gone. His posture didn't imply that he wanted Bobby to leave though, not that he would have done. Knowing better than to push, he gave Sam the only thing almost guaranteed to draw him out: silence.

"You think I should have told him."

"Hey, I never said that," Bobby countered, causing Sam's head to whip curiously in his direction. "But that would be the general gist of it, yeah," he confirmed.

Sam sighed and looked away, but his brow was furrowed and Bobby could tell he was thinking about it.

"What would be the point?" he asked at last.

"Besides the obvious?" Bobby blurted, incredulously.

"It's over Bobby, there's nothing he can do about it now."

"Dean might not agree,"

"Nothing that's not going to wind him in jail for the rest of his life," Sam amended, with a wry smile.

Bobby nodded, but said nothing. He had a point. Homicide would probably be high up there on Dean's list of immediate reactions. It had been on Bobby's. Not that Sam had allowed him to follow up on that particular urge.

"You gonna tell him?" Sam asked.

He'd thought about it over the years, and the instinct was even more strong since he'd heard that monster was on route to his house, but if he had any belief that to do so would be for Sam's benefit and not his own, the hitch in Sam's voice as he asked the question dispelled it.

"Did I tell your daddy?" he asked in way of an answer.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. "I never meant to make you an accomplice in this. You shouldn't have been put in the middle like that. I never wanted that. I never meant for you to know."

"Christ Sam, you were 13 years old. You couldn't… you _shouldn't _have carried that alone." There'd been relief in it for Sam, he was sure. In the idea that _someone_ else knew. And there were times when Bobby could convince himself that the look of gratitude on Sam's face in that instance was worth all the pain and the guilt of sharing in that secret. But most of the time he knew that nothing would ever be enough.

Because Bobby knew, had known for years, but Sam would always be alone with it. Bobby knew, but had done nothing with that knowledge. Sam had made him promise, had begged him not to tell John, and he hadn't. But he'd done nothing to help in John's place. And now it just sat there like a barrier between them; more than Sam's dislike of hunting, more than the visions, more even than Sam's own death. Bobby has never been able to feel comfortable around Sam since that day, because he knows what Travers did to him. And he knows that he did nothing.

"He's gonna be here any minute," Bobby warned quietly. "You gonna be able to do this?"

"I dunno," Sam admitted. "Are you?"

Bobby took a moment to think about that. "Well let's see," he mused. "Last time we were here I broke my knuckles on Travers face…"

"I remember," there was a satisfied smile on Sam's face and a twinkle in his eye that made the memory of that pain worthwhile.

"Then I chased your daddy of my property with a shotgun." He finished off.

"Yeah, about that…"

"Hey, it's not my fault the man refused to see reason, even with a little friendly persuasion."

"Still…" Sam shrugged, and the smile was gone again. "I wished you hadn't done it."

""Yeah well," Bobby drawled darkly. "You don't always get what you wish for."

"I think I've figured that one out for myself," Sam smiled wryly. And Bobby didn't doubt that he had. But it wasn't Travers that had taught him that lesson at age 13. That was evidenced enough by his 15 year old belief that his father would respect his input. Or the fact that at 19 he had believed he could keep his family and have a new life. Sam's innocence of that truth was in the part of him that he had given to Jessica, that had planned for a future he would never get to have.

The part that had died in his brother's arms in Cold Oak. And maybe _that_ was when Sam had got there in the end. Maybe his inability to die properly, on his own terms, had enabled him to finally figure it out.

"But still," Sam continued. "It wasn't worth it."

"Wasn't worth it," Bobby growled. He could tell the thunder he was feeling must be emanating from him because Sam flinched. "If I didn't know Dean would question where the bruises came from, I would knock some sense into you right now. Not worth it," he huffed.

"It had happened two years ago at that point Bobby. And it was over. I wasn't gonna let him near me again, and he _knew_ it." There was that same strength and conviction in Sam's voice that Bobby had admired then, too, but he couldn't help but wonder how much easier things might have been for all of them if Sam had allowed himself to be a little weaker. "He _knew _it."

"It wasn't all about what _he_ knew," Bobby pointed out. Even at 15 Sam had been strong willed. Bobby was sure Travers hadn't known what hit him when he'd learnt the hard way that a 15 year old Sam Winchester was not the same kid who hadn't been able to stand up to him two years earlier. Sam had no difficulty in making his objections known, and was not one to allow them to be overridden. It had been an unending source of conflict between him and John in later years, Bobby knew; he just wished the older Winchester had taken the time to wonder why Sam was suddenly so opposed to having the will of others forced upon him.

If John had paid a little more attention to his son's body language rather than his tracking skills, then he might have seen the flinches and sideways glances that Bobby had. Might have been the one that took Sam aside to ask the questions he needed asking. And then it would never have been in question.

Sam sighed and shook his head. Bobby didn't know if it was in acceptance of his point or disagreement, and found he didn't much care. It was ancient history now, and John was not around any more for Bobby to not apologise to.

"We should head back in," said at last. "I left that brother of yours unsupervised in there, and that never fails to make me nervous."

Sam nodded and slid down from his perch. "You know that thing with the crazy glue was me, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know," Bobby confirmed. "But Dean don't have to know that," he confided.

Sam laughed.

They wove their way through the maze of cars in silence. Sam's question had been a good one, and he'd never really thought about the answer. He'd made it clear the last time Travers was here that he would not be welcome back again, but he had never been sure if the other man knew _why_ Bobby had doled out that edict. If it was just part of a general eccentricity that had sent two seasoned hunters packing in as many days. And that was almost 10 years ago now. He honestly had no idea how he would react coming face to face with him again.

He wouldn't promise to follow Sam's lead, because they both knew he probably wouldn't be able to. But one thing was for sure; they were in for an interesting evening.

-0-

Dean wandered into the kitchen in dire need of coffee, only to be slightly put out to find no pot and no people to greet him.

Frowning slightly, he rummaged through the cupboards for a clean mug, wondering where Bobby and his brother had disappeared to. Bobby knew the terms of Dean's deal as well as he did; if the other man was encouraging Sam in any way in his efforts, then they would be due some serious words. He got that Sam wasn't happy with the situation, and could be a little moody about it at times, but he wasn't going to apologise for it, and he wasn't going to sit back and let Sam void his terms.

He was just wondering whether he should hunt them down and _make_ them tell him what they were up to, when the frantic tooting of a car horn and revving of an engine greeted him.

Grinning to himself, Dean dumped the coffee packet on the kitchen table and headed outside.

"You always did know how to make an entrance," he called out, striding across the yard to clap the newcomer on the back as he exited his vehicle.

"Dean, kid. Good to see you," Travers boomed enthusiastically, pulling him into a brief hug. "I was sorry to hear about your father, but that was no reason to be a stranger."

"I know," Dean agreed. "There were just… things to do. Got kinda crazy for a while."

"And it's winding down now?" Travers asked.

"Something like that," Dean swallowed. "Anyway, it's good to see you."

"And here's that brother of yours," Travers eyes lit up, and Dean turned and looked over his shoulder to see Sam and Bobby emerging from some distant corner of the salvage yard, heading in their direction. "My, my, little Sammy Winchester. Not so little any more, right," he admired, pumping Sam's hand and clapping him on the back. "Let me look at you," he instructed, grasping Sam's biceps and holding him at arm's length.

"Evening Singer," Travers nodded in head in Bobby's direction, right hand never losing its grip on Sam's arm as he herded them all back towards the house. "Right. Now the introductions are over, I guess we've got some business to attend to. This Tailypo isn't going to slay itself, right Sam?"

Travers turned to go, and Dean caught Bobby watching the other man's retreating form with a thunderous expression. Sam looked wide eyed and slightly ill, and Dean wondered what the hell was going on.

Sam detached himself from Travers grip and hung back until Dean had passed before making his way inside.

"Hey, Sam," Dean reached over and plucked his brother's sleeve, pulling him closer. "Put some coffee on, would ya? Travers' has had a long drive, could probably do with a brew."

"So, what have you got?" Dean asked, strolling back into Bobby's living room, where the two older hunters were waiting in silence.

"Shouldn't we wait for Sam?" Travers asked.

"Nah, kid's smart. He'll catch up." Dean told him.

"Okay then," Travers shrugged, unloading a duffle from his shoulder onto the nearest chair and pulling out some leaves of paper. "I got 6 bodies showing up in the same 5 miles of woodland within the past 2 months. All the bodies had been shredded so badly they were practically flayed, and they were all put down to animal attacks. There were signs of teeth marks in the flesh. One coroner went as far as to say that the bite marks looked canine, but I've had a look at some of the pictures," Travers continued, handing out a couple of gruesome looking stills in Dean and Bobby's direction. "Whatever caused those marks was big. A darn sight bigger than a coyote, that's for sure."

"Anything significant about the location of the attacks, might provide an indication as to where this thing is hiding out?" Bobby asked, flipping through the rest of the pages he'd been handed. "Aren't these things usually focused around a cabin? Target hunters?"

"Not that I can see," Travers admitted. "But that's why I'm here. Fresh eyes might see something I've missed. There are several hunting retreats in the area, who knows how many of them are active. And you probably know the land here abouts better than the rest of us."

Sam chose that moment to re-entre the room with a tray of Dean's much needed caffeine. Snaffling a mug as Sam passed, Dean smiled appreciatively, watching as his brother set them down on the edge of a desk in the corner of the room and retreated behind it. Sam sat and cradled his mug in his hands, eyes scanning the print outs that Bobby set down in front of him while Travers continued his tale.

"First death was round about here," he stated, pulling out one of the plans Sam had recovered earlier that day and spreading it out on a low table in front of the seats Bobby and Dean had taken. He marked the location with a pen, going on to plot another five points, seemingly at random. Dean watched as Bobby compared the locations with the police reports filed, as though checking up on the other man's intel.

He looked up to see that Travers was watching Bobby too, with a cold frown.

They stared at the map in front of them for several long minutes, throwing out and discarding theories about where the creature might be based, and why it had chosen to target the areas it had out of all the land available around it.

"And it's definitely a Tailypo?" Sam piped up from his position across the room.

"I think I know a Tailypo when I come across one, kid," Travers' lips curl up in amusement. "The woods, the cabins, the flayed victims. It's standard stuff."

"No, I know. It's just…" Sam flipped through the papers stacked on the desk in front of him. "It's just Hayley Morris, the hiker that survived back in January. According to her statement, she says the thing that chased them had coal black eyes."

"So?"

"So… It's just, that's not typical for a Tailypo, is it?"

"The woman was traumatised. She watched her husband get torn to pieces in front of her."

"And then what?" Sam questioned. "She out ran it?"

Dean cocked his head appreciatively. Kid had a point. Tailypos didn't typically allow people to get away.

"After an incident like that, she's not a reliable witness. You know that." Travers scoffed.

"Did you talk to her?" Sam asked.

Travers snorted derisively and shook his head but Sam's gaze and his intensity never wavered. The older hunter glanced in Dean's direction, but Dean just shrugged. He could understand why Travers might not like being publically questioned by someone who wasn't even old enough to legally vote the last time they were in a room together, but Dean was just relieved to see Sam's objections to this job actually being based on something other than his own bad mood.

And he couldn't say he wasn't a little proud.

"It makes no difference," Travers countered. "Whatever this woman thinks she saw, we still need to find it, and kill it."

"Agreed," Dean piped in, ignoring the look of hurt that flashed across his brother's face. "Whatever it is, we shoot it with the consecrated rounds, and odds are it's still history." If this had been his and Sam's case, they would have talked to the woman, tried to corroborate her account. It was no surprise that her official story made no mention of having heard the thing speak, but it would have been nice to have the confirmation to back up their suspicions. But even without it, Dean was inclined to agree with Travers' assessment.

"Even if it's not a Tailypo?" Sam sounded doubtful.

"Sure," He countered.

"Dean…. We don't know if it's even corporeal."

"It's ripped six people to shreds. That sounds pretty damn solid to me." Travers stood, looking angered now.

"Right…" Bobby let his opinion be known. "Because a spirit couldn't do that."

"A dog spirit?" Dean questioned. "With that level of awareness? Something close to strategy? You know how rare that would be?"

Bobby shrugged, but Dean could tell the other man agreed. Sam might only have been trying to be thorough, but it was pretty unlikely that whatever this thing was, they wouldn't be able to kill it. Between the silver and consecrated rounds, and a regular old machete, this thing was going down before a seventh victim was found scattered in the undergrowth.

"Look, I know you're only _trying_ to help," Travers turned to Sam, and Dean could practically hear his brother grind his teeth at the condescension in Travers' tone. "But it's clear what we're dealing with here."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure," Bobby spoke up, standing to match the other man for height. "Sam's right. There's something off about this. The eyes are an anomaly, and I've sure as hell never heard of a Tailypo attacking in daylight before. I'm not saying I think it can't be killed," Bobby caught Dean's eye placatingly, "I just think we need to be more open minded, prepare for any eventuality, that's all."

"Classic Bobby Singer," Travers muttered, shaking his head bitterly. Dean whipped his head in that direction in time to see Sam do the same, matching his expression of confusion. "So damn cautious, I don't know how you manage to ever kill anything at all. I suppose there should be comfort in the fact that some things never change."

Dean wasn't 100 per cent sure what had just happened, but he could tell there was nothing light and teasing about Travers' tone. "This is that summer all over again, isn't it? Just the same as the last time I was here, and the last job we planned, just the three of us. You, with your doubts and your questions, and Dean is so much like John it's like he's still in the room. Just as capable, just as dedicated. The only thing that's different is Sam; all grown up now and allowed to play with the big boys.

"You know, the last time I was here was the last time we ever worked together, but it was the last time you and John worked together too. You ever stop to think that maybe _we_ weren't the ones that were difficult to get along with?"

Dean stood, but he had no idea what to do with himself. No idea what Travers was referring to. His instinct was to side with Bobby, but as far as the job went he was align with Travers on this one. His eyes flicked to Sam, silently seeking the younger man's aide. Sam stood quietly and slipped out from behind the desk, but seemed equally as unsure how to proceed.

"You know what," Bobby ploughed on, stepping up into Travers' face. He may have had a good few years on the other hunter, but Dean was under no illusions about his capabilities if it came down to a fight. "You're right about one thing. Sam isn't a kid any more. He's learnt how to stand up for himself, and this time around his opinions are going to be taken into consideration by the people that matter."

"What the hell does that even mean," Travers crowed.

"Bobby…" Sam's voice was barely audible. Dean had been so focused on the other two men that he hadn't seen his brother move, but the barest touch of his hand on Bobby's shoulder caused the older hunter to freeze in place.

"You know what?" Travers raised his hands and took a step back. "I don't need this. I remember now why I never came back here. I'm just trying to get rid of this Tailypo before someone else has to die, but you? I have no idea what you're trying to do."

Travers was moving again now, gathering up reports and photos, cramming them back into his bag and heading for the door.

"I meant what I said Dean," Travers paused in the doorway and turned back to him. "I could use you on this one. There's too much land for one man to cover alone. I'd been looking forward to working with you again. It really has been too long. I'm going to be staying in the area tomorrow while I get some supplies together. Give me a call and we can get together. Go over this properly, and get the job done.

"Hunting evil. That's all _I'm _trying to do. And that comes before whatever game is going on here." He looked distastefully back at Bobby before sweeping from the room.

Sam sat shakily down in the nearest chair as the front door slammed, fingers massaging his temples, and they remained in silence until long after they'd heard Travers' car peel out of the yard.

"Someone mind explaining to me what the hell that was about?" Dean asked quietly

"Nothing that's worth losing any sleep over." Bobby glared at the window and into the darkness Travers had disappeared into with a baleful scowl. "Good riddance."

Dean caught Sam's eye, and his brother looked as surprised by the night's turn of events as he was. But Dean couldn't help but remember Sam's certainty back in the car that afternoon that Bobby would not take kindly to Travers showing up on his doorstep. Sam was obviously aware of parts of this story that Dean has missed.

Bobby moved around the sofa where Sam was sitting to collect the discarded tray of mugs from the desk in the corner, and Sam craned his neck to watch him go. "Well, I think that's enough excitement for one night," he told them. "I'm gonna do a quick check of the wards, then turn it. Pity there's nothing I can put up that'll keep assholes away," he muttered quietly to himself as he left the room, and Sam's lips quirked in a grin.

"You knew something like that would happen?" Dean asked his brother once Bobby has left them alone.

Sam just shrugged.

"Don't give me that," Dean argued, voice alarmingly close to a whine. He didn't like the thought of being kept out of whatever was troubling their friend.

"I just…. I know things ended in a similar way last time Travers was here," Sam explained. "I don't know what was said, but Travers packed up early and left. Dad booked the next day. You guys did the hunt without him. Dad and Travers kept in touch, but I don't think Bobby ever saw him again after that."

"You might have said something," Dean complained.

Sam looked pained. "I thought you knew. You were here that week too, Dean. And besides, you were right. Whatever's out there killing those people needs to be stopped."

"You really don't think it's a Tailypo?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Sam admitted, cradling his head back in his hands again. "The eyes, and the daylight attack… it just doesn't make much sense."

"The rounds'll still kill it," Dean cajoled.

"Yeah, maybe." Sam sounded exhausted. "If they were the only things he missed."

"You really are a control freak, you know that?" Dean didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. Travers wasn't suicidal, and wouldn't be trying to lead them into those woods if he didn't truly believe they could end whatever was in there. It was a comfort knowing you'd done all the research yourself, that you'd got everything covered, but at some point you just had to trust the guy that had your back.

Sam pursed his lips slightly, but said nothing.

"Alright," Dean chose to let it go. "Take another look into the incidents tomorrow if it'll make you feel any better, Bobby's got the details copied down. But I say we just hit the trail from here, and here," he traced two points on the map still splayed out on the table between them. "We can get in easily from the road. You and Travers can take the east section; there are more cabins to cover. I can hit these areas and meet you over there within a couple of hours. It's not ideal, but that way we can cover most of the logical places in the shortest amount of time"

"No," Sam said quietly.

"A Tailypo isn't exactly gonna sneak up on me Sam," Dean pointed out. "Any woodland critter starts talking to me, and I'm gonna know we've found our guy," he smiled. He wouldn't point out that the reason he'd paired his brother with Travers was so Sam wouldn't have to be out in the woodland alone with this thing, so he understood Sam's concern.

"Yeah, if it's a Tailypo," Sam agreed, and Dean sighed in frustration. "But it's not that," Sam continued.

"Well how about _you_ start from here, and Travers and I will hit the eastern area?" Dean amended. He didn't like it, but maybe it was better to keep Sam and Travers apart for a while to stop Sam antagonising the other man to death.

"That's not going to make a difference," Sam offered.

"Make a difference to what?" Dean asked, thoroughly baffled now.

"To the fact I'm not going," Sam told him. He was watching Dean steadily from across the table, head raised defiantly, and it was the most direct and open he'd been all day. It just didn't make any sense.

"What do you mean, you're not going?"

"Exactly that," Sam told him steadily.

"How can you be..?"

"I made a promise to myself a long time ago, and I don't intend to break it."

"Promise… what…? This thing has killed 6 people."

"I'm not saying _you_ can't go. I won't stop you…"

"Oh, well _thank you_ for that," Dean issued sarcastically.

"…but I'd _really _rather you didn't. I promised myself when I was thirteen years old that I wasn't going to listen to Travers again. I don't trust him. He's too impulsive, and I _don't_ think he's a stable hunter. I don't trust him to have our backs. I told Dad as much the last time we were here, and so did Bobby. But I was ignored and Dad went anyway. Dragged you along with him."

"And nothing happened to us," Dean was quick to point out. "I barely even remember that job, that's how uneventful it was."

"That doesn't matter," Sam stressed. "I swore I would never put myself in a position to follow Travers' orders again, and I stand by that. And will you please not ask me to?" There was a waver in Sam's voice that Dean couldn't explain, and it made him uncomfortable.

"Well, will you follow _my_ orders?" he asked. He honestly didn't know. Sam had always had issues with authority. Except with the law, which was ironic for them given they mostly existed outside of it.

"Of course," Sam offered.

"Well then…"

"About anything other than this."

Dean just stared at him, his insides going cold.

"Can you please just trust me on this, and not go?"

"People are dying out there Sam, I think I'm gonna need a reason." He said firmly.

"And that I'm asking you…. Can that be the reason?"

Dean shook his head in disbelief. It didn't matter how much time they spent together, or how close he thought they'd got, they always came back to this position in the end, and Dean was sick of it.

"You really are a selfish son of a bitch, you know that?" he asked, unable to keep the venom from his voice. "You ungrateful little… you should try thinking about someone other than yourself some time. Think of all the times Travers was there for Dad when we were kids, huh. How much he taught us, how many times he helped Dad out. Think of all the times he was there for _us_."

"I am," Sam said sadly. "That's why I can't go."

"You just don't like the guy because every time he showed up you got dragged out of school for a week, but you know what? They guy's damn good at what he does. And he saves lives. Which is a hell of a lot more important than soccer practice, or debate club, or whatever the hell it was you used to whine about missing."

Dean was on his feet and yelling now, but he was just so damn angry. Sam hadn't moved from his seat and was as still and silent as a statue. Throughout it all he hadn't even raised his voice. And he looked so incredibly young in the face of Dean's rage. But he just couldn't contain it. Dean had sold his soul, and Sam wouldn't even help him kill a murdering creature when he asked him to. He remembered how Sam and their father used to be, and how they used to fight, and felt he could finally understand why. Understand how frustrating it was when Sam was so unreasonable and put personal feelings in the way of saving lives, of getting the job done.

"There are other hunters that can take this job," Sam offered, was practically begging. "We can even do it ourselves if you want to, just without _him_, and without his half-done research, and…. Dean!"

It was only as Dean turned to go that Sam stood, or even raised his voice, but Dean was so mad he couldn't stand to be in the same room as Sam anymore. He couldn't predict what he was going to do. That Sam would suggest they just snatch another hunter's job out from under him, after all the time and planning Travers had put in…

"No, Sam." He told him firmly. "You know what, I can't even bear to be around you right now. So give me some space, or you might just push me to do something we'll both regret."

And with that he stormed towards the door, leaving Sam frozen in place staring after him. He didn't stop, just ploughed straight on into the night, and the cold air did nothing to sooth him.

-0-

Bobby didn't know what he'd expected when he'd left the Winchesters alone together; whether Sam would confide just where his issued lay or not. But one thing he hadn't expected was the tone in Dean's voice, and the words he could hear booming through the open living room window as he crossed the yard back to the house.

He froze in his tracks at the sound of the front door slamming open, and through the dim light be could make out Dean's irate form as it strode passed him and away from the house.

After a few yards Dean paused, fists clenching at his sides, and Bobby could hear his ragged breathing over the wind and the night air.

Bobby took a step towards the younger man, and Dean swung round to face him at the sound of his boots moving over the hard earth.

"Bobby?" Dean was frowning questioningly in his direction, and indeed he might, because Bobby was pretty sure he was looking at the kid as though seeing him for the first time. He _felt_ as though he was seeing him for the first time, and he could barely believe what he saw.

"You picked up many of your daddy's traits, kid," he said sadly, "But I never thought _that_ would be one of them."

"What?"

"I never thought I'd live to see the day _you_ had that conversation with Sam. Spit your fathers words back at him. Not when Sam had told you the same thing he told John; that Travers is a _bad_ person, and you shouldn't work with him."

"He's just trying to kill something evil. How is that bad? This is more than a two man job, and you know what? Sam'll have my back. He always does. If he distrusts Travers that much then if I go on this job with him, Sam will follow."

Bobby's face twisted into a grimace. "Would you really force him like that after he'd said no?" he asked incredulously. "Because you know what? You're father was always doing that too and Sam couldn't take it, and we all know how that one worked out."

"Yeah, well I thought Sam had grown out of that particular trait by now. Obviously I was wrong."

Dean shivered slightly, bringing his hands up to rub his arms in an attempt to ward off the chill. When Bobby remained silent Dean just shook his head and took a step away from him, starting to move around Bobby and back towards the house.

"You don't go back in there until I'm sure you've calmed down," Bobby warned him.

Dean just laughed humourlessly and shook his head, moving forward again. "This is between the two of us, Bobby."

"Now you listen to me," Bobby told him calmly, taking a step towards the other man and raising the shotgun he'd been carrying at his side. Dean's eyes widened comically at the sight of it and he froze, hands held loosely in the air in front of him, eyes never leaving the barrel. "I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told your father, and we'll see if you're the better man. And if you're not… Well, then you can just leave the same way your daddy did."

"Bobby, what is this?" Dean took a step back.

"Sam told you he doesn't trust that man." Bobby stated calmly. "All he asks is that you trust him, and that you not go. You sold your soul for the kid. Is the idea of staying home and missing one job too much to ask?"

"Yeah, he says he's not going, but he's not giving me anything Bobby," Dean tried to justify. "I don't see _why_ all of a sudden he's decided he's not going to go."

He'd been questioning over the past couple of hours that exact same thing; why Sam didn't just come out and tell Dean the truth. It was the only sure fire way to end this in a way that would give them both what they wanted. Not that being told that truth would be something Dean wanted by any stretch of the imagination.

He'd thought that last time too. And it was only as he'd got a fuming John Winchester in his cross hairs that he'd figured it out. Having Dean now standing in that exact same position, that realisation came back with force.

"It's not about needing an explanation," he told Dean patiently. "You shouldn't need one. You shouldn't need anything other than the fact that Sam asked this of you."

Sam had been fifteen and he'd been scared, and he'd gone to his father for help. But he'd been proud then, too. Sam didn't want John to pick his side out of guilt or pity; he wanted John to pick him because he was worthy of it; because that was John's choice. Because his daddy _wanted_ to. Not because he felt he had to.

"If this is because you're worried about leaving that Tailypo out there, then that's honourable. But there are other hunters in the area. I can call in some favours; pass other people Travers' way. That thing'll go down, with or without your help. But Sam and I won't work with the man, and that should be _all_ you need to know to not work with him either."

Dean eyed the gun warily. "Are you serious?" he asked, nodding to the barrel.

"I've never been more so," Bobby confirmed. "Do you think that little of your brother that you think he'd be doing this for arbitrary reasons? What? You think he's just after attention? Are you really going to impose your will on him like that, when he looks you in the eye and asks you not to?"

Dean continued to stare, but the doubt was beginning to show on his face.

"Come on kid, it's cold. You really want to stand out here all night?"

Dean shook his head. He looked lost and confused, but at least he was no-longer angry, and Bobby's posture relaxed. He sighed as he lowered the gun. He was getting too old for this crap.

"I'll call Travers in the morning," Dean murmured, eyes still on the lowered gun. "Tell him we can't make it. That he'll have to find someone else to help with the job."

Bobby nodded and smiled, clapping Dean on the back and steering them both back in the direction of the house. Dean wasn't stupid, he had to know there was something more going on, but Bobby had felt strongly enough about it to go for the shot gun, and he reserved that for special occasions, so he didn't think Dean would push it for now. He had no idea what would happen when he did, but they would deal with that when they came to it.

Sam had asked, and for now that was enough.

-0-

Sam was still sitting on the sofa where Dean had left him, huddled into himself, staring at the table in front of him and looking impossibly small. Dean paused in the doorway, uncertain about going in. He could hear Bobby sigh and shake his head in the hallway behind before the older man disappeared into the kitchen to give them their privacy.

Sam didn't look up until Dean cleared his throat nervously, and that caused Sam to flinch, then shift guiltily.

"I'll leave a message for Travers in the morning," he offered quietly. "Tell him we're not going to be able to make it on this hunt. He can find someone else to help if he still needs it."

"Thanks," Sam nodded and gave a relieved smile, but he didn't seem to relax, shoulders held just as tense as ever. As though he was bracing for whatever Dean was going to say next.

Dean looked at the floor by his brother's feet. "Whatever it is… you know you can tell me, right?" he said softly.

"Yeah."

He hadn't been expecting a reply, and it had been issued so quietly he barely heard it. But it was a place to start.

"Okay."

He turned and headed up the stairs. Bobby had known about their arrival in advance, which seemed to deem them worthy of a room, and actual beds. He'd dumped their stuff in there earlier and he stared at it now, not sure whether Sam would be making it upstairs or if he'd just choose to stay on the couch. He'd take some gear down for him if he didn't know it would be taken as request to keep out

Dean slung the duffle onto the floor and sat down on the side of the bed with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was so tired. He'd been feeling good when he'd woken up and during their morning drive, and he'd been looking forward to seeing Travers again. To the excuse to kick back and drink some beers, to reminisce, and remind himself what all this was for. Now he was feeling even more confused; more of a sense of impending dread than he had before.

He'd thought he'd known Travers. Thought he was a friend. He wondered what else he thought he knew would prove to be a lie. He'd been worried about the prospect of leaving Sam alone; knowing his brother could be so insular he would be unlikely to turn to anyone once Dean was gone. So there was a part of him that was relieved to know that whatever issue Sam had, he'd gone to Bobby with it. He tried to find hope in that, but mostly it just hurt.

He could hear footsteps in the hall, the sound of Bobby heading to bed, and the landing light flicked off, plunging the room into an even deeper darkness. But he was too weary to move; to either turn the lamp on or crawl under the covers. He just stared at his knees and tried not to think about Hell. About his brother's cold weight in his arms.

The door to the room clicked open a crack and a figure slipped silently inside, closing the door behind them. Dean didn't have to look up to see Sam leaning with his back against the door, eyes adjusting to the dim light.

He didn't ask what Dean was doing sitting in the dark, or how long he'd been there, he didn't have to. He just moved across the room and sat cross legged on the floor at Dean's side, hunched over with his back leaning against the bed, arm resting slightly against Dean's leg.

Dean glanced at him questioningly, but only the top of Sam's head was visible. Sam's elbow brushed Dean's shin as his fingers played with the hem of his jeans, which seemed to be absorbing all of his attention.

There were so many things to ask, but for the moment he was content just to be. To sit in the dark with his brother while Sam collected his thoughts.

The weight against his leg grew heavier as Sam lent slightly towards him, but his brother's eyes never left his hands.

"There's something I think I need to tell you," Sam breathed.

The End.


End file.
